


Would You Kindly Forget This?

by Amsare



Category: BioShock
Genre: Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Control, Spoilers, Voyeurism, Would You Kindly (Bioshock)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsare/pseuds/Amsare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's short of ammos and med kit but Atlas is always right there to help him and he knows how to relax.</p><p>
  <i>“Listen, I'll see what I can do for you, find some EVE or something. I'll send you two security bots right away, they could be helpful, yeah? Now, would you kindly lie down? You'll be safe.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Would You Kindly Forget This?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm playing _Bioshock_ again which gave me lots of ideas for many stories. Atlas/Jack cause of reasons. 
> 
>   _Would you kindly read?_

_I'm gonna die soon if I don't get rest right now._  
   
He's short of ammos, medical kit and he's got only one EVE left.  
   
Jack grips tight the hand around the gun – two bullets and it will be useless _._  
   
He peeps out the door of what used to be a fancy apartment room, ready to fight; there's nobody inside except for two dead bodies on the floor in a pool of blood. As he enters in the room he checks for any turrets – but there aren’t any. He checks the bodies and he finds just ten dollars and a couple of bullets in their pockets.  
   
It seems he's out of luck – he's in Mercury Suits, one of the best place where you could live in Rapture according to Atlas – and there's literally nothing valuable.  
   
No supplies, no EVE, _nothing_.  
   
Jack sighs as he sits down on the single bed, lowering his weapons; he massages his wrists, looking around himself. He takes his radio out, clicking on some buttons.  
   
“Atlas? Are you there?”  
   
The buzzing is frustrating.  
   
“Atlas?”  
   
There's a loud explosion somewhere out there; by the sound of it, probably a Big Daddy has killed some splicers at the ground floor to protect his creepy Little Sister. Jack should be safe where he is, then.  
   
_What the fuck am I supposed to do?_  
   
He's getting tired of all this shit, of being trapped down the Atlantic Ocean killing people on his way – or at least who used to be people.  
   
Those splicers, those monsters, were cold blood killers, screaming nonsense atrocities.  
   
“Boyo? Can you hear me?” The radio crackles, Atlas' voice coming out of it, “Can you hear me?”  
   
“I'm here,” Jack feels a strange feeling of happiness and calmness as he hears that Irish voice coming out of the radio; he doesn't know why Atlas makes this effect on him – it's not like he knows him, not really. Maybe because they are in _hell_ together, in Rapture together, and they have to escape together: Jack has to find Andrew Ryan's office, kill that crazy man, reach for the surface and forget all about the horror he's witnessing.  
   
He would continue his journey – he has no choice – but he's stuck there, bleeding and hurting.  
   
_Broken._  
   
“Atlas, I'm stuck. I'm somewhere in Mercury Suits and I'm low on ammos and EVE,” he explains briefly as he's feeling too much tired even to speak, “And I'm bleeding.”  
   
Atlas sighs from the others side of the radio, “I know, I know, everything must be terrible for you... But you're the only one who can end all of this, trust me.”  
   
Jack passes a hand through his damp hair, licks his lower broken lip tasting blood – he's getting used to its metallic taste or scent, “I-I'm sorry, I need help... I don't know what to do.”  
   
There's a long pause, creepy silence in the room; then the radio buzzes again.  
   
“Listen, I'll see what I can do for you, find some EVE or something. I'll send you two security bots right away, they could be helpful, yeah? Now, would you kindly lie down? You'll be safe.”  
   
Jack obeys as he always does when Atlas asks him something – it's as natural as breathing for him. He lies down the dusty grey mattress, springs that squeaky loudly.  
   
“Look at your left, there should be a safe right over the headboard. All Mercury Suits have one.”  
   
Jack shifts carefully on the bed and he looks at the wall behind him; there's a safe hidden under the stained wall paper, using just a hand to open it: inside there are a couple of bucks, a package of bandages, a medical kit, a bag of chips and two blue EVE syringes.  
   
“Yes!” He's relieved of finding all those things, “Atlas, I found a med kit,” actually he wants to cry for happiness.  
   
“Told ya! Use it, boyo, you'll surely feel better.”  
   
Jack opens the med kit box, taking out the small disinfectant bottle; then, he opens it and he soaks a piece of cotton. When he mends his wounds, they sting a little; he grits his teeth but he can hardly contain a groan of pain – the wound on his neck seems to be pretty nasty.  
   
“Who did that to you?” Atlas asks him as he hears his whines.  
   
“Two dammed Houdini splicers. They popped up out of nowhere and then beat me badly.”  
   
“And...?”  
   
“I froze them and shattered their bodies into pieces,” it has been hard – they were strong.  
   
They _were_.  
   
“Did you like it?”  
   
That question confuses Jack, “What?”  
   
“Did you like killing them?”  
   
Jack hasn't really thought about it: after all, he's _forced_ to kill if he wants to survive.  
   
Would he avoid to do it if there was any other choice? Probably.  
   
“ _I have to_. I don't like killing people.”  
   
“I've told you they aren't people, not anymore,” Atlas' accent slips a little but Jack doesn't mind, “They're monsters, _inhuman_.”  
   
“Yeah, but I don't like the killing part either, you know,” Jack doesn't feel like a killer. This is what's becoming in Rapture, a killer?  
   
Atlas is quiet now, just his breathing coming out the radio, when finally he speaks again, “Well, I suppose it suits you. You're saving all the Little Sisters you meet in Rapture instead of harvesting them to get more ADAM. You've got a moral.”  
   
“So?”  
   
“So I don't know if that's a good thing down here. It can make things harder for you… but don’t mind me, I don't want to upset you.”  
   
“You cannot upset me, Atlas, you're the only one who's so close to me... I'll be fine,” yeah, there's the Tenenbaum woman but simply she's not Atlas – he's the closer thing to a friend he could ever had down there.  
   
Atlas chuckles at that comment, “Fine, boyo,” the way he usually calls him warms Jack's heart, “Keep on resting, would you kindly? The security bots are on their way, they'll keep you safe.”  
   
Jack doesn't answer as he finishes his medication; he opens the bag of chips and they seems to be the best potatoes chips he's ever eaten in his life.  
   
He's tossing the empty bag away when he hears the familiar whistle of the bots approaching; they stop just outside the door, their green light making him feel safe.  
   
It wouldn't be bad staying there for a little more: from where he's lying now he can look out the window where the neon lights on the buildings shine weakly in the sea.  
   
Ghosts of an old and glorious city.  
   
Probably Rapture used to be a real beauty: part of him is sad that he didn't get the chance to live in it as a normal bloke doing his job. Anyway the idea of not being able to see the sky, the sun and stars for the rest of his life… Well, no thank you.  
   
All those dammed lives, _buried in the sea..._ It's terrifying.  
   
“How are you feeling?” Atlas asks suddenly in a smooth voice. Jack's not used to hear him talking like that – he's always in a hurry, alert and energetic.  
   
“A lot better, Atlas,” Jack's grips tight the radio in his hand, “I'm going now.”  
   
“There's no rush! I'll tell you when it's time to go, ‘right? Relax yourself, would you kindly? Leave the radio next to you so I can hear you.”  
   
It's automatic for Jack, muscles relaxing on the bed: he still can't understand why that Atlas has such a strong effect on him but he doesn't care. Actually, there's a strange feeling in his chest, spreading suddenly through all his body.  
   
“Now, touch yourself, boyo. It will be a good way to feel even better.”  
   
Jack's face burns as he leaves the radio next to him while sliding his hand straight down his pants, rubbing gently between his legs. There's a nice pleasure growing constantly, something arousing him deeply inside.  
   
_What...?_  
   
He's becoming _hard_.  
   
“Are you doing it?” Atlas' voice is a little shaky.  
   
“Yes,” Jack answers breathing; he closes his eyes, focusing on caressing himself under the fabric.  
   
Atlas chuckles, “ _Good,_ ” murmurs through the radio.  
   
Jack shivers as he hears him talk, he moans and it's so strange but he's just keeping on pleasuring himself because he can't stop, he doesn't want to stop and – _come on, come on_ – it's so good.  
   
He lowers awkwardly his pants with a hand just enough to have more freedom to move, bed squeaking under his weight.  
   
“Don't be afraid of making some noise, sentinels will take care of any splicers, I sent them for a reason, yeah? Let me hear you, boyo.”  
   
_Oh damn_ – “A-Atlas!”  
   
Jack bucks his hips forward, pushing inside his fist, pretending it's not his hand, pretending to be fucking someone real...  
   
“Come, would you kindly?”  
   
And that's it, that's the order, Atlas' hot voice letting him to come, pleasure spreading deep down his groin.  
   
“Atlas!” Jack moans his _savior_ name, wishing he was there in that very room with him.  
   
Palm sticky, pants a mess – he cannot care less.  
   
“Boyo?” Atlas is strangely panting.  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“Are you feeling better?”  
   
Jack shivers, brushing off his hand on his pants, “Yeah,” he answers heart still beating hard, “I'm feeling so much better.”  
   
_“_ Good kid,” the voice coming out the shortwave radio seems different, harsher; Jack is about to speak but he can’t.  
   
_“Would you kindly forget this?”_  
   
***  
   
_Who would have thought that those security cams would have been so useful?_  
   
Atlas lights on a cigarette as he sees the boy getting up on his feet, getting ready to continue his mission; he switches off the screen satisfied, enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm.  
   
“Keep up going, boyo,” he says through the shortwave radio, a wicked smile on his face.  
   
“Yeah, Atlas.”  
   
_When this masquerade is over, I’m gonna have so much fun with you, kid._  
   
   
   
   
 


End file.
